


A Good Fit

by upallnightstrungtight



Series: edges [2]
Category: Super Junior
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:39:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4410608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upallnightstrungtight/pseuds/upallnightstrungtight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finally, after a <i>very</i> long day, there's nothing standing between them anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Fit

**Author's Note:**

> NSFW companion art (no nudity) [here](https://www.dropbox.com/s/xjhpjw2p1sy61lp/h%2Br2_b.jpg?dl=0).

Henry’s hands are winding their way through Ryeowook’s hair, getting to muss it up at last, pushing forward all the while. He groans as much from the taste of Ryeowook’s mouth as from the instinctive implications of the fumbling at the button of his pants, his zipper pulled down just as they bump into something. _Ah. Kitchen._ Unheeding of anything else, Henry hoists Ryeowook onto the counter, enraptured by his compact form, the jut of his chest, and if it had to be put into words, it might sound something like, _You are tiny and pretty and I wanna **ravish** you_. Ryeowook goes easily when Henry hitches his leg up higher, starts panting from a mere push of palm right above the back of his knee. _Interesting_ , Henry barely manages to think, caught up in feeling the firmness of Ryeowook’s thigh beneath his sliding grasp and that cute little ass yielding to the force of his fingertips. He presses a soft road of kisses onto Ryeowook’s sharp jawline, feeling Ryeowook gripping his upper arm with one hand as if he’s going to topple over without it while the other is pulling up the back of his shirt, hearing him mutter through shallow breaths about how ugly it is and how it needs to come off _right now_. Ignoring that, Henry’s mouth darts down to Ryeowook’s neck, sucking sloppily and lightly down one side, the “ah!” interrupting the commentary making him _ache_ with the craving for more, but that grip on his upper arm is tightening painfully. A bit of steadying touch, supporting some inscrutable twisting around on the hard surface, seems to do the trick.

Once Ryeowook’s apparently satisfied that he’ll remain upright, even if he’s dazed and wobbling, leaning onto Henry’s oustretched arm, he manages to strip off the aforementioned shirt with some assisting maneuvers while Henry’s pants slide down off his hips and then entirely, hailed with vigorous approval by Ryeowook’s roaming hands and soft curses and heated gaze drinking him in. Careful to not interrupt, Henry steps out of the pile and kicks it aside, itching to touch again, wanting nothing in his way. He pulls off everything hastily, Ryeowook’s open button-down that had dropped from his shoulders (though he maybe had something to do with that too), his soft t-shirt underneath, helps him lift up his hips to slide off his jeans, followed by a scrap of fabric that might generously be called underwear. _For me?_ Henry thinks with idle curiosity. Ryeowook’s shorts look so incredibly small on his kitchen floor, almost enough to distract him, but he wants to hear Ryeowook moaning, see his furrowed brow and his mouth falling open, make him come and maybe even forget about his troubles for a minute. To start, though, the warmth of his shoulders, the smooth plane of his back, the soft skin of his sides all cede to Henry’s greedy hands, the squirming from lingering kisses along his ribs almost feeling too intimate for this nameless dance they keep repeating, easing the itch but it’s still _not enough_.

Bending down, he slowly takes Ryeowook into his mouth, running his hands up tense calves to straining thighs, caressing the creases with his thumbs, curling his left around Ryeowook’s hip while his right index and middle finger smooth a back-and-forth path through the sharp edges of freshly trimmed coarse hairs. Given a second small sign, he can’t resist prodding, wondering what he’ll get this time; will it be bashful, prickly, or the rare and lovely pushback, giving back just as good? The mystery is part of the fun. Humming contently as he pulls off, fitting in a teasing lick along the way, Henry looks up with a smirk. “Is this for me?” He asks, voice rough and amused, his fingers now tracing patternless swirls, a pointed allusion via enjoying the varied texture.

“Shut _up_ ,” Ryeowook grunts. He shifts his weight, balancing himself on one hand to reach the back of Henry’s head with the other, trying to push him back towards his cock. It’s light, however, not even a quarter of his strength.

 _Prickly it is._ But maybe a little nudge… “I like it, _hyung_ ,” Henry says, watching the upward twitch of Ryeowook’s hips, the slight shaking of his arm, his squeezed-shut eyes and the press of his teeth into his bottom lip an ineffective barrier against the whimper that comes out. _He’s never gonna admit that, is he_ , Henry thinks fondly, careful to not actually laugh out loud. Keeping his mouth occupied is a great way to assure that. He allows himself to concentrate fully and it’s as soothing as ever, feeling the pleasant press of smooth hardness on his tongue, the drawn-out moans that he’s been waiting for only encouraging him to redouble his efforts.

The evidence was obvious enough, but it’s still surprising that his jaw is only just starting to feel strained when it becomes quite clear that he wasn’t the only one desperate to release some tension. _There_ it is, the keening cry of his name that’s almost enough by itself to keep him coming back for more, and if this moment is why he tries to keep his hair short enough so that it can’t be pulled on too hard, well, no one ever has to know that. It’s just- _Right, almost forgot_. He lets go, just enough to feel pulses of warmth tap-tapping his mouth, and keeps his hands firmly pressed into the middle of his own thighs.

Hold, one breath, two, then he sinks down to his knees, resting back on his heels. It’s already a foregone conclusion that he’ll have to wash up after this. Messy and sticky is the name of the game anyway, so it’s easier right now to let come drip over his lips and down his chin, droplets sticking to his neck and a few splattered on his chest. He knows Ryeowook, can see him pushing his trembling arms and lethargic eyelids to their limits to see this vision of debauchery looking up at him from the light gray tile. Now they’re even on this one, at least, because Henry sure as hell kept pulling up that memory for a few weeks, though he might’ve been a bit too vigorous with Ryeowook’s mouth at the time and hasn’t yet figured out a good one-up for that. (As if he keeps a ledger in his mind, soon enough, Ryeowook will pay back something else altogether, setting aside his bossiness for a night to let out all the begging and naked desire and utterly beautiful surrender that, perhaps, he doesn’t feel safe enough to with anyone else. Afterwards, they’ll pretend it didn’t happen like that. Some lies are armor.)

When Henry sees Ryeowook’s elbows give out, he darts up, then feels kind of silly placing his hands where he estimated would cushion Ryeowook’s head and the space between his shoulderblades while the other man slowly and smoothly levers himself back. He doesn’t look like he cares, though. Henry watches his chest rise and fall, still on edge, nearly vibrating with this last strand of unused energy. He gently slides his hands out from under Ryeowook, careful despite himself.

“Gimme about five minutes, then you can fuck me,” Ryeowook says, thoroughly out of breath, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. “But I can’t move right now, so take me to the bed.”

The desperate part of him stuck on the first half, a curl of arousal rippling through him as he automatically contemplates what he can do to shorten that timeframe, Henry feels the soft slide of cotton over his erection, a pleasurable contraction reminding him what’s in store. Still, he has his dignity to hold up. “Now I’m your taxi?” He asks with a wry grin, even as he slides his arm underneath Ryeowook’s knees and leans over him. Instead of answering, Ryeowook loops his shaky arms around Henry’s neck to pull him down that last tiny bit, then crushes their mouths together and starts sucking on his tongue.


End file.
